The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1887-01-27
HIS FAILURE.
A STORY.

STORY.
"Poor Richard Realf! I know how
every hope died within his SOUL"
He pushed back the heap of manu-.
script before him, as he said this, and.
resting his weary head on his hand,
sat looking out upon the street.
lie was "born unto singing, j." but to-
day he could not utter what heaven
had breathed into his soul, for the
burthen lay sorely upon him. Lately
1t had been 80, that when the heart.
chords were swept by the Unseen mas
ter hand, and his soul essayed to sing
the refrain, the mellow measures
trembled forth. only to talter before
the unappreciative, and the golden
notes died amid the jeers OF the cow
ardly creatures OF spite.
Long he sat at his desk, consulting
his over burdened heart. Should he
60 on and be buffeted by ridicule long
er? He did not know; it seemed to be
his duty to row against the tide, but
oh! it was hard. Some, he was aware,
counted it strengthening to genius, to
battle and endure, and he envied them.
He believed he could battle and do
bravely-but not alone; he was afraid
he had not the vim to withstand the
contrary currents. Those who should
have held up his hands by words OF
announcements stood aloft and looked
on with unconcern. Others who might
have made his world OF thought to
bud and bloom, passed by on the
other side with uplifted eyes, not
meaning to waste their high might
ness on struggling aspirant, and there
were none to lend a helping hand.
All! yes; he would give it up, and
write the word failure above the prob
lem of his mission, and leave it un-
solved. 1t would be hard task GER
tainly, to say to the sweet well-spring
OF song within, "thus far, and no far
ther," but it would be harder still to
have its crystal waters lose their puri.
ty on the rocks OF Marah, over which
they must flow.
Yes; he would wall in this beautiful
summer sea, and grow careless and
pa;sionless and send his supersensi-
tive soul to school to the cynical prosa-
ic. He would slip down from the
round OF the ladder to which he had
chung in desperation; slip down to the
darkness OF the monotonous levels.
No one would disturb him there;
and he believed he must be one of those
who run we'll for Il season only; no
matter, he would try and forget that
the rose-wreathed gates of the glorious
land OF song were ever ajar for him.
Why should he remember?
He pushed the inoffending manu-
script, which some busy editor had
'declined.' into the open drawer, shut
it away from his weary sight, and
turned the key in the lock savagely.
Thus he flung the gauntlet into the
faces of "The Nine" who turned
aside from their chosen singer with
mute sorrow. He fancied now, that
the tide OF his summer sea would new
cr rise again; but, there was an influ.
ence, destined to bear upon his dead
sea world, and say to the ALBANIAN
tine shores, BE thou Cleft" That lit.
tie rift withiD the lutte" was soon o
be mended ana the music was once
more to thrOb forth in its enhancing
sweetness
Again he sat at his desk, and the
manuscript lay before him; but this
time the sunshine streamed over all;
the fairy rainbows Of happy promise
spanned each well-written line, and the
songs he was born to sing were swell.
ing in the deep sea tide with an echo
sweeter than ever dreamed OF. What
had wrought this magic TRANSFORMED
ton?
All! the glorious sunlight OF appre-
ciative kindness had broken through
the sullen canopy suddenly, and illu-
mined his dreary way; the helping
hand had been reached out to him,
and had touched those long-silent
chords; and they had given back a
symphony, sweet as the bells OF
Heaven. His doubts that had made
him lose the good he might have won,
were being swept aside by that helping
hand he had never seen her, but in his
thankfulaess he allowed she must be
the one good angel sent to cancel his
failure, and help him work out the
problem OF his mission. A letter lay
on his desk, in which she said II rec
ognize the happy fact that you are a
poet from the perusal of your poems,
which have read; your lines contain
much merit; please continue and will
help you"
Blessed words! II will help you"
They brought heaven nearer than it
had been for many weary years; he
could have fallen down at her feet, and
worshiped her for her timely inspira-
ton, but that was impossible, he
would do better, however; he would
continue, and thereby show his graft
tude, by doing his best. She had not
given her address, and the post mark
was too dim to be legible, so he had
no idea from which direction his help
was coming; no matter, if she had
seen his poems in the past she would
be watching for them in the future.
A year went by and he found his
powers OF song developing, and he be-
gan to look forward to the bright fields
of the promised good once more. The
dreams OF his youth came back now
for realization.
The helping hand was with him still.
Cup, up the heights" she said; "press
right on and never falter and I will
help YOU" OF the name of his men,
tor he was not altogether certain; OF
her residence he was yet ignorant, but
with her heart he was well acquaint-
ed, and he had known for months that
the kinship of his soul rested with her,
whoever she might be.
Did he realize how much he depended
on this unseen friend? What if he, by
some stroke OF fortune, should he sep
arated from her, and be obliged to 60
his way alone?
He shuddered to think of it. But
what allied him; he was becoming in
fatuated with the free, easy handwrit.
ing of woman he had never seen?
That sounded little foolish, some.
way. Did he really love the soul that
breathed through the kind letters he